Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση
[blocks in formation]

And never earth's philosopher Traced, with his golden pen,

On the deathless page, truths half so sage

As he wrote down for men.

And had he not high honor,-
The hillside for a pall,

To lie in state while angels wait
With stars for tapers tall,
And the dark rock-pines like tossing
plumes,

Over his bier to wave,

And God's own hand, in that lonely land,

To lay him in the grave?

In that strange grave without a

name,

Whence his uncoffin'd clay Shall break again, O wondrous thought!

Before the Judgment Day,

And stand with glory wrapt around On the hills he never trod,

And speak of the strife that won our life

With the Incarnate Son of God.

O lonely grave in Moab's land!
O dark Beth-peor's hill!

Speak to these curious hearts of ours,

And teach them to be still.
God hath His mysteries of grace,
Ways that we cannot tell;

He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep

Of him He loved so well.

HENRY ALFORD.

THE AGED OAK AT OAKLEY.

I WAS a young fair tree;
Each spring with quivering green
My boughs were clad; and far
Down the deep vale a light
Shone from me on the eyes
Of those who pass'd,—a light

Thai told of sunny days,
And blossoms, and blue sky;
For I was ever first
Of all the grove to hear
The soft voice under ground
Of the warm-working spring;
And ere my brethren stirr'd
Their sheathed bud, the kine,

And the kine's keeper, came
Slow up the valley path,
And laid them underneath
My cool and rustling leaves;
And I could feel them there
As in the quiet shade

They stood with tender thoughts,
That pass'd along their life
Like wings on a still lake,
Blessing me; and to God,
The blessed God, who cares
For all my little leaves,
Went up the silent praise;
And I was glad with joy
Which life of laboring things

Ill knows, the joy that sinks-
Into a life of rest.

Ages have fled since then:

But deem not my pierced trunk

And scanty leafage serve
No high behest; my name
Is sounded far and wide;
And in the Providence
That guides the steps of men,
Hundreds have come to view
My grandeur in decay;
And there hath pass'd from me
A quiet influence

Into the minds of men:
The silver head of age,
The majesty of laws,
The very name of God,
And holiest things that are
Have won upon the heart
Of humankind the more,
For that I stand to meet
With vast and bleaching trunk,
The rudeness of the sky.

ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN.

ENDURANCE.

How much the heart may bear, and yet not break!

How much the flesh may suffer, and not die!

I question much if any pain or ache Of soul or body brings our end more nigh;

Death chooses his own time; till that is sworn,

All evils may be borne.

We shrink and shudder at the sureon's knife,

Each nerve recoiling from the cruel steel

Whose edge seems searching for the quivering life,

Yet to our sense the bitter pangs reveal,

That still, although the trembling flesh be torn,

This also can be borne.

We see a sorrow rising in our way, And try to flee from the approaching ill;

We seek some small escape; we weep and pray;

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »